A letter from Sean Ahern, our high school friend in prison for bank robbery:
My robot is Pregnant
“On the road again”
(12-24-08) A Chapter closes in my life. U.S. Penitentiary Lewisburg is turning into a gang lockdown and shipping non-ganstas else where. I’ve been in three different prisons in the past three months. Three different security levels, but no real difference since they were all spent in SHU. Well, that’s not really true. Let me explain.
Just like Dante’s Inferno had nine levels of hell, SHU (security housing unit) is much the same. My first stop was FCI Aleenwood which wasn’t bad, except for the standard sand blasted plexiglass super safetey double bullet proof glass you couldn’t see through, and the mariachi band next door. It was one of the “tortures” they were using at Guantanamo Bay, however, the food was pretty good.
After about a month of the good life I was sent to Allenwood Penitentiary which was like going to hell on fire, being put out with iced piss and left to dry in an air conditioned outhouse in December. In fact it was December as I shook in my bunk reading “The Audacity of Hope.” Oh, the audacity indeed! But my hopes were heard, and after about a week of extremely cold sensory deprivation, a strict diet of cold shit and lettuce & no phone or visits, I was sent to the Low Security Correctional Institution at Allenwood, which was and is an improvement, but again hell on a different level.
I should first mention that everyone who works in prison thinks their job is the hardest thing since ditch digging. Well, I can’t say everyone. Only cuz they read this, maybe its me, or maybe solitary (although I’ve had 2 cell mates who talk non-stop like two old yentas) just gets to you…I just can’t explain beyond the obvious (no phone, no visits, no store, no clean laundry, no medical attention, no books above a 3rd grade reading level, crybabies for baby sitters, wardens who make “two snaps up in a cricle” ghetto girl faces, windows you can’t see out of, cold waffles, no pillows, no sleep, the list goes on…) Finally I found a way out.
I’d been working on Etheric Projection for a while and had been making progress. Etheric Projection is when you project your “inner body” out onto the etheric plane or earth, while you dream. They say that once you can become conscious in your dreams that you can project yourself where ever you want, fly, walk through walls, frolic with unicorns in a field of fresh daisies, visit your girlfriend, what ever you like.
I’d wanted to see my girlfriend, whether I took a unicorn to see her or not didn’t matter to me. As long as I got there. That was the main reason i took an interest in projection.
I started a dream journal, waking up an writing down what happened, how I felt, was I conscious, and if so did I act upon my consciousness? That’s when the strangeness began to happen.
First there were reoccurring dreams of being homeless and living in a red van, my clothes in a green ARMY dufflebag. I was conscious though, when the van began to roll I jumped out and pushed it back locking the parking brake. This was followed by long vivid dreams of running up trees, over rooftops, into houses, over trains and into underground trails. Others of meeting a person named “Quinn Lasses with glasses” a bespeckled teen with bleach blond hair who runs a club called, well it doesn’t have a name the sign out front is a symbol – a guy on computer looking up a site called “Asian Kitty” (there’s no way that not a porn site) my having to choke him and put him in the trunk of a car.
All dream stuff, and in a few I’d made decision, or thought I had. I still had questions. Who was Brandy Corso? Would I be going to court soon? The last dream bothered me the most. Still does. And still no visit to my girlfriend.
I had dreamt that I was watching a serial killer dump bodies in trees in some type of State Park or National Forest in California. I just remember that he had long hair and knew, somehow I knew he hadn’t been caught. In fact, I believe that it was in the past. That it already happened. Not that I want to write the name down, but I also know who it is.
I’ve asked a bunch of people to look it up on the internet, but people think it’s a joke. It is, right? Who is Brandy Corso? Did anyone ever kill people and put them in trees in a California State Park? I can’t even see out my window! (AM 1060 tells the time every five minutes though.)
Maybe I’ll find out when I get to wherever they send me, but what if its not in the past? What if its happening now? (They lost all my property)
I haven’t slept since last Friday. I hate holidays. I haven’t gotten any mail all week. I still don’t know if any of that shit is real. It sounds crazy, but I know it is. It was too real not to be real. I’m not sure if this is even real. I could be asleep for all I know. (to be continued)
Authors note: The ending is that you ask your readers to – please email president elect Obama in support of federal parole, the abolition of mandatory minimum sentences, and the restoration of 65% “good time” for the federal prison system. We can always dream, right? –
Let me know some subjects you’d like to hear about , when I land I’ll get on it. – Sean